


You Make My Heart Breathe With Ease

by mlbee



Series: Running Home to You [2]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Aspec Mikael, Bisexual Jonas, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, M/M, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14692227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlbee/pseuds/mlbee
Summary: And he was scared, saying all this. He knew that it might be too much. That the confusion of being with someone so unsure couldn't be an easy thing to process. He knew the risk that came along with these confessions. But something about Jonas's sure and steady gaze, the feeling of his kneecaps pressing gently into Mikael's, gave him the strength he needed to say it all. To say every thought that had been on his mind since he saw Jonas silhouetted against a navy blue wall amid impressionist paintings.





	You Make My Heart Breathe With Ease

**Author's Note:**

> Mild angst but there's always gonna be a happy ending with these two. I hope you like it! You can find me on [tumblr.](http://whenispeakicrossmyfingers.tumblr.com/) <3

The next few months were full of new discoveries. Understanding the feelings that were growing in his chest was a really big part of it. Because although he knew he was interested in Jonas, he still wasn't sure how to process it. He always thought he understood the grey area that he lived in--that he could possibly be attracted to someone, but since he hadn't been, he wasn't really sure if that was true. Or, if it was, how it would feel.

But meeting Jonas was unexpected and beautiful, like a morning glory unfolding in the night into a beautiful dark purple bloom in the warmth of the sun.

He found himself wanting.

He wanted to touch Jonas, but he wasn't sure how.

He had always been a very tactile person. He hugged his mother frequently, messed with his siblings hair and offered them kisses on various limbs when they got hurt. He touched his friends all the time. Hand slaps, playful shoving, affectionate hair ruffling, and endless hugs. There were so many people in his life and so little room in the world that he was nearly constantly touching someone.

And it was nice. a very stable sort of warmth that coursed through him. Something steadying that, when gone, almost felt like the absence of a limb.

But with Jonas it felt...different.

He wanted to reach out and ruffle his large dark curls, and he wanted to playfully shove him when he said something dumb during a walk in the park.

But he also wanted to touch him differently.

He found himself wanting to keep their fingers interlaced, even after their hands became clammy and gross. He wanted to weave his legs between Jonas's when they sat across from each other in McDonalds. He wanted to hug him and hold onto him for longer than he'd held onto anyone.

He didn't understand why this one was different. Why he was so acutely aware of the heat that radiated off of Jonas's body, and why every time he came close it was as if he had been rubbing his sock covered feet against a shag carpet.

Everytime Jonas came close it felt like a shock of electricity that was terrifying, that jolted him awake, but also left him with an unexplainable desire to do it again.

Mikael knew that Jonas was aware of his strange reaction to touch. He was aware of the silent hurt in Jonas's eyes when he got too close and Mikael pulled away.

He thought Jonas understood. Hoped he did at least.

He wished, somehow, that Jonas would understand what was going on without Mikael having to say a word. Because the thing was, he didn't know if he could. He could barely understand the strange feeling in him--the bizarre fear combined with an insatiable wanting--that he doubted he would be able to articulate it to Jonas.

But one day in the park, he became brave.

They had been laying down in the warm spring sun--nearly June--and Jonas had just started talking. He told so many secrets to Mikael that day--all tucked inside himself, looking at the sky, pulling at the grass, looking anywhere but at Mikael. He told Mikael about his struggle with bisexuality, how he knew it was okay to feel that way, but how knowing and accepting were two completely different things. He told Mikael how his first love felt like she could be the only one. But then it ended the way relationships do, and Jonas was left stranded. He told Mikael how is best friends were there for him, how he talked to them, explained to them the war that had been going on inside him for years. And they understood. They talked to him and helped him accept it, helped him grow. He told Mikael how he came out to his sister first, and how her "Oh yeah, I already knew that," reaction made it easier to tell their parents. He told Mikael how they accepted it. How it took a week, but they supported him completely.

The day passed before them as Jonas bared his soul to the boy he barely knew.

And Mikael knew then. He knew that Jonas was unlike any person he had ever met. He was kind and eager and compassionate. But he was patient. He wasn't going to push where he shouldn't. Mikael understood that, instead of out right asking, this was Jonas's way of discovering. Telling secrets and stories in a way so completely sure that it encouraged others to do the same. He was filled understanding in a way that didn't need to be said. In a way that just was.

So Mikael told him everything.

He talked about the grey areas he had come to call home. The in-between he always seemed to find himself in. The places he wasn't sure he could ever escape; places he wasn't sure he wanted to. He told Jonas about the conversations with his friends--how he always felt like he was on the outside. The conversations with his parents--full of expectations he knew he'd never be able to fill. Conversations with his brother about the girl he wanted to marry and a lifestyle that Mikael knew he would never have.

Mikael told Jonas about the shock of the past month. Tentatively tracing the back of his hand, he told Jonas how badly he wanted to touch, but how deeply afraid he was of what that meant. He told Jonas about how he wanted, so badly, to be bold, to take his hand, to kiss him, to hold him. He told him how afraid he was because he felt things for Jonas like he had never and probably would never feel for another person.

And he was scared, saying all this. He knew that it might be too much. That the confusion of being with someone so unsure couldn't be an easy thing to process. He knew the risk that came along with these confessions. But something about Jonas's sure and steady gaze, the feeling of his kneecaps pressing gently into Mikael's, gave him the strength he needed to say it all. To say every thought that had been on his mind since he saw Jonas silhouetted against a navy blue wall amid impressionist paintings.

And it was worth it. Because within the confessions, Jonas understood the things Mikael wasn't saying. He understood that Mikael saying he was afraid of the touch meant he wanted Jonas to be more bold. How Mikael twitching at Jonas's hand really meant to hold on tighter.

When they said goodbye that night, Jonas wrapped Mikael in a hug tighter than he’d had in months. He felt tears prick the back of his eyes and he silently cursed himself for his body's involuntary action. He didn't want to cry. He felt good. Better now that all his confusions were no longer weighing on his chest. But with the relief came an overflow of emotions in the form of tears. And they didn't fall, but they shone in his eyes. And Jonas squeezed his hands extra tight before Mikael got on the tram to go home.

Except Mikael didn't go home.

He rode the tram two stops longer than usual and knocked on Even's front door.

"Hey," his best friend said when he answered the door. "Are you okay?"

"I met someone," Mikael said.

Even's eyebrows shot up, and he blinked a few times, as if trying to discern whether he was hallucinating or if he really did just hear that confession.

"Mom! I'll be back in a little while!" He shouted, grabbing his denim jacket and leading Mikael out to the street.

They walked in silence for a while, before they got to their old playground. It was halfway between their houses, and the place they always went to for safety. It was a place of comfort, really. A place of childhood innocence that transformed into areas of deep conversation under the starlight. It was they place they first got high, the place they first got drunk. The place Even came out to him, the place Even told him about his bipolar. It was a home for the two of them. Only for them.

"So who are they?" Even asked, legs nearly too long for the swing.

"’They’ are a ‘he,’" Mikael said, looking down at his scuffed shoes. "I met him at the museum."

"When?"

"About a month ago?"

Even nodded, unfazed by the length of time Mikael took to tell him.

"How?"

Mikael laughed, "I started drawing him, and he noticed me."

"What a meet cute," he laughed, swinging over to nudge Mikael's side.

Mikael laughed and let the night settle around them, listening to far off cars, dogs barking, the quiet buzz of the streetlights.

"How is he different?" Even asked after a while. And Mikael confessed for the second time that day. Told of electricity, of soft lips, of comfort and understanding. He told everything he knew about Jonas, and everything he felt. And Even listened, with rapt attention, lips slightly pursed, blue eyes swimming with compassion.

"He sounds great," he said after a while.

"I really like him," Mikael admitted, eyes afraid.

"That's okay," Even said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's terrifying, yeah. But it's okay. It's great."

Mikael nodded and they swung along a little longer. They moved onto lighter subjects, and Even told him another story of the Green-Eyed-Angel from KB, slipping into his hopelessly desperate romantic ways. Mikael secretly was rooting for him to win out this situation, because it would be just the meet cute Even needed, but he wasn't going to let Even know that. Not yet at least.

Even walked him home, and gave him a big hug goodbye.

"Thanks for telling me," he whispered. "We're always here for you."

"I know," Mikael nodded.

He told the rest of the boys a week later, and it went exactly as he had expected. Screaming, wide eyes, playful shoving and slapping, and endless questions. He confessed everything to them too, clarifying where he could, admitting confusion where he couldn't. They were happy for him, and he was happy they knew.

"I told them," he texted Jonas minutes later, and the reply was almost instantaneous.

"And???"

“You're not accepted until they meet you, according to Elias. But they're happy."

"Phew, that's a relief."

"Were you that worried??"

"A bit. Now when can I see you so I can give you a congratulatory 'I'm so proud of you' kiss?"

Mikael blushed and tucked his face into his chest, which did not escape the notice of his friends. They pushed him and wrestled him and somehow Adam managed to get his phone out of his hands.

Within seconds Mikael, from under a pile of boys, heard Adam say, "Yeah, Jonas? This is Adam, Mikael's friend. What are you doing right now?"

And within minutes they were off, going to meet Jonas at McDonald's.

It went well, all things considered. The boys grilled him with questions about his past, present, and future. Elias threatened him with murder if he did anything to Mikael, to which everyone assured Jonas that Elias wasn't capable of actually killing anyone, but that they would definitely maim him if they needed to.

Jonas looked like a deer in headlights but all the while Mikael pressed a steady thigh into Jonas's. He felt the heat radiating off him and this time he didn't shy away from it. In fact, he welcomed it. He reached down and laced their fingers together, rubbing a reassuring thumb over Jonas's knuckles. Jonas smiled at him, shy, and Mikael gave his hand a squeeze before turning back to his friends and berating them for harassing the boy he liked.

After that, it was easy to embrace Jonas and all the confusing feelings that came with him.

They went on dates--mostly getting food and wandering around, but also going to the movies, going to more museums, and going to the botanical gardens. And Jonas was invited along with Mikael and the boys if they did anything fun.

He got bolder too, with his feelings.

He would hold his hand in the park, still out of sight of people, but still in public. He'd sneak kisses, or touch Jonas in a way that might look platonic to the random passersby, but definitely wasn't to them.

Sometimes Mikael would hang out at the skatepark while Jonas skated--he had taken to drawing him in a blur of motion--and Jonas would come up to him, panting and out of breath, and press a quick kiss into Mikael's mouth. He was so taken by surprise the first time. But after that, he welcomed it. The sight of Jonas, bright eyed from adrenaline, slightly smelling of sweat, hair wild and windblown--Mikael couldn't keep himself from tugging Jonas down to kiss him. It was the sight of their first real public kiss, where other people could definitely see, and Mikael couldn't have been happier about it.

His favorite moments though, were the quiet ones with Jonas. They'd spend time in his apartment watching movies -- sometimes joined by his three roommates/best friends-- and they would just exist together. Sometimes they would snuggle, Mikael tucked into Jonas's chest, Jonas laying half on top of Mikael. Or they would sit at opposite ends of the couch, sharing a blanket around their midsections, toes touching, legs intertwined. Other days, they'd just sit there, Jonas studying for his final exams, Mikael drawing him with that same look of concentration he first fell in love with. They'd cook together, dancing around each other in Jonas's tiny shared kitchen. They kissed easily, touched constantly, and were completely, unbelievably happy.

They were together for four months when Jonas asked Mikael if he wanted to meet his family.

"Are you sure?" Mikael asked.

"Mik," Jonas laughed, "I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

"I know, but," Mikael stammered. His eyebrows knitted together in unspoken worry. He hadn't mentioned anything to his family, and he wasn't sure when he would. That wasn't a conversation he was ready for. Jonas knew this, of course, because after that day in the park, they had become extremely communicative of their feelings, good and bad. So it was surprising--and terrifying--to Mikael that Jonas asked this question.

"Hey," he said, sitting up and taking Mikael's face in his hands. "Don't worry about that yet. I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to do. It's just...my family knows about you, and Thea keeps bugging me about bringing you over. And it's been a while since I've been home. So I just thought that, if you want, you could come with me next time?"

Mikael looked at him with wide eyes. How could this boy be so understanding and sure?

"You don't have to," Jonas said. "I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"I'm not uncomfortable," Mikael said.

"No?"

"No. I'm just..." He trailed off, shaking his head to clear away the amalgamation of fear in his head. "Yes. I'll go. I'd love to go."

"Really?" Jonas's eyes sparkled with delight.

"Yeah," Mikael nodded, smoothing his hands over Jonas's t-shirt. "I want to meet the people who made you."

"God I love you," Jonas said, kissing him. His lips were soft and his hands strong against Mikael's jaw. His brain short circuited and Jonas pulled back when he realized Mikael was unresponsive. His dark eyebrows were knitted together in question.

"What did you say?" Mikael asked quietly.

Jonas's face went slack with realization. He opened his mouth and closed it again searching for words, and explanation, something.

"I love you?" he said, this time like a question. His eyes were half closed, like he was afraid of Mikael's reaction.

"You do?" Mikael asked.

"Is that okay?" he asked. Jonas shrunk back against the pillows.

Mikael's face broke into a huge smile and he felt warmer than he had all summer.

"Yes," he breathed.

"Yes?"

"Yes!" Mikael launched himself forward and covered Jonas's mouth with his own. It was tender and sweet and perfectly messy, a beauty that neither of them expected. "I love you too," he breathed when they separated, pressing his forehead against Jonas's.

"You do?"

"Of course I do you, you idiot."

"I'm just checking," Jonas shrugged with a cheeky smile.

"Shut up," Mikael said fondly, slotting their lips together again.

And they kissed and kissed and kissed until Magnus came back and told them they had to separate because he wanted to watch Mad Men and it "isn't the same on my computer screen."

So they watched Mad Men with Magnus and shared secret smiles and held hands for the rest of the night.

A week later Mikael met Jonas's family and it was everything he could have imagined. His parents were nice and welcoming, and made Mikael feel right at home. Jonas's mother had the same biting sass as Thea, and his father was equally gentle as Jonas. They ate dinner and played games and told Mikael he needed to come back very very soon, which he assured them he absolutely would.

Mikael and Jonas passed in beautiful companionship for two more months before they hit a bump.

"Are you okay?" Mikael asked. They were at Jonas's--they rest of the boys had gone to a party , so they had the apartment to themselves. He had been quiet for most of the day. A couple days really, and Mikael had brought over his favorite ice cream because he noticed something was up. And normally he wouldn't press, he would let Jonas come to him. But the silence had kind of been killing him and he couldn’t figure out what was going on.

"When are you going to tell your parents about me?" he asked and, well, okay.

"Wh--what?" Mikael asked, heart thrown into his throat.

"It's just," Jonas started. "It's been six months since we've been together. And they still don't know about me."

“They know about you," Mikael defended.

"As your friend!" Jonas said.

"Is that a bad thing?" Mikael asked.

"It's not bad. It's just," Jonas said. He gripped the bridge of his nose. "I feel like you're ashamed of me."

Mikael softened, "You know that’s not true."

"I mean," he said, exasperated. "I know it's not. But I have to admit it makes me a little nervous. You fit so easily into my family. And you talk about your family all the time! I know how close you are with your siblings and your parents and I just--I feel like your hiding me. And it sucks."

Mikael didn't say anything. He knew Jonas was right. He was hiding him. Technically his family knew of Jonas's existence. Samir was the first to figure it out, asking about Jonas long ago. But he was six and it was immediately forgotten in favor of Thomas the Tank Engine. Zara was next, when he finally admitted he'd been going to see a new friend, and not just the Bakka boys like usual. So eventually, the whole family had come to know. And they asked about him. His mother asked after him like she asked after the rest of the boys, and his father prayed for his well-being along with the rest of their friends and family. But they didn't know him. And Jonas was right, it was a problem. But Mikael wasn't sure how to handle it.

"And I don't want this to seem like I'm telling you you need to come out to them or anything, because you don't. I just, I want to know where you're at. I want to know if it's a possibility any time soon, or at all. I want to meet them," he said. "And I know that if I do, I won't be able to act like just your friend."

"It's complicated Jonas," Mikael said, voice barely above a whisper. "You know that."

"I know," he said, reaching across the table. Mikael's hands were still under the table, worrying in his lap. "I know. But I'm tired of wondering. With every day that passes and they still don't know about me, I wonder how many more days I have left before you drop me."

"You can't possibly believe that," Mikael said, anger seeping into his voice.

Jonas just shrugged.

"You really think I'm just going to drop you?" he said, voice raising. "Jonas, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I love you okay? You do realize that don't you?"

"Yes, of course," he said, "but--"

"But? But what?" Mikael said standing up and starting to pace. "Do you think I don't know how hard this is? How difficult it is for my parents not to know about you? Do you think I want to keep you a secret?"

"It's not that," Jonas said, "It's--"

"What? What could it possibly be?" Mikael said, voice raising. "Do you know how complicated this is for me Jonas? I have had a hell of a time trying to figure out my own damn feelings for the last six months. Let alone try and figure out how to tell my parents. My parents who have always asked me when I'm going to get married like Ahmed. When I'm going to settle down and give them grandkids. I didn't even know how to tell them that that was something I would never be able to do. A year ago, I was certain I was never going to be in a relationship, and it killed me. Because I knew my parents wouldn't understand. And now! Now I have someone, I have you, who I love so deeply, more than I ever thought I was capable of. But now you want me to explain that to my parents, my Muslim parents who, though open and loving, still believe that marriage is a sacred union between a man and a woman. Who love all people because of their faith, but who I don’t think can fully accept everyone because they don't understand them. You think I don't want them to know about you? I do. So, so, badly Jon. But I don't know how they'll react."

He didn't know when it started, but he was crying. And Jonas was in front of him, holding him still, stroking his thumbs across Mikael's cheekbones, muttering "Shhh, shhh, I know, I know."

"You don't know Jonas. You were already out to your parents. They knew that something like me was a possibility years ago. My parents have no idea."

"I know," Jonas said. Somehow he was crying too. "I know, I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."

He tried to pull him into a hug but Mikael pulled away.

"I'm gonna go," he said, moving toward the door to grab his coat.

"No, Mikael," Jonas said, reaching out to pull him back. "Please. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said shrugging out of Jonas's grip. "I just...I'll talk to you later."

He paced back and forth in front of Jonas's apartment building. He half wanted Jonas to follow him out, but the stronger half of him was glad he stayed inside. It was something they tiptoed around most of the time, not wanting to come to heads like they clearly did tonight. The air felt cool against his still wet cheeks, and he wiped a hand across his nose as he made his way to the tram stop. He punched numbers into his phone as he walked.

"Hey, are you home?" he asked when the other line went live. "Can I come over?"

In 30 minutes he was standing in his brother's apartment.

When Mikael first showed up, Ahmed pulled him into a tight hug. He didn't ask any questions, just took in Mikael's messy frame and did what he had always done best--comforted him.

Samira, his wife, made tea for them. She didn't bother to put her hijab back on for Mikael--they were close enough that she was unbothered. Eventually they all sat in the tiny living room, sipping chai, waiting for Mikael to speak.

"So," Ahmed said. "What's going on?"

They had known about Jonas--known him as a new, very good friend of Mikael's. But tonight, Mikael told them everything. He told them about the museum, the day in the park, the grey areas and the moments of flashing color. He told them that he was in love, and he didn't know what to do. He told them about the fight today and how he just walked away, now afraid he screwed everything up.

When he stopped talking, his tea had gone cold, hardly touched. Samira took it from his hands and wrapped him in a tight hug. He looked up with worried eyes to his brother.

"Do you think I've screwed everything up?" Mikael asked.

And Ahmed, to Mikael's surprise, laughed, "Mikael, if everything you've said about this boy is true, I'm not sure you could screw anything up."

"No?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not even close."

"But," he said, "I haven't told mom and dad. I've kept him a secret for months."

"He's not that much of a secret," Ahmed said with a smile.

Mikael looked back and forth between him and Samira. "Did you...did you know?"

"I suspected," Ahmed said. "But I didn't know the depth of it all."

"You're not very subtle at keeping the fondness out of your voice," Samira said kindly, squeezing his shoulder.

"Do you..." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Do you think mom and dad know."

Ahmed shrugged. His hands were pressed together against his mouth, elbows resting on his knees. It was a position he adopted long ago, a position Mikael knew he used with his patients, but it had forever been comforting. Like he was hanging on every word you said.

"That's something you'll have to ask them yourself."

"Do you think I should?" Mikael asked.

"I think you should do whatever you think you should do. Not me, not Jonas. You. Only you can make that decision," Ahmed said.

"You know that doesn't help me that much," Mikael said. Samira laughed next to him and ran a hand through his hair, so comforting and maternal even though she was only two years older than him.

"I know," Ahmed laughed. "But it's the truth."

They were silent for a while. He looked between them again, so thankful for the relationship he had with them. They were only a few years older, but they were at least 12 years more mature than he was. He felt drained, sitting there on the couch, but better than he had all night.

"Do you mind if I stay here tonight?" Mikael asked.

"Of course not," Samira said patting his knee. "I'll get you some blankets and a pillow."

He helped Ahmed clean up the tea as Samira set up the couch for him. She hugged him again before going to bed, and Ahmed lingered in the hallway.

"You know, I think they'll be more understanding than you think. Maybe not at first. But they're good people, even if they say dumb things sometimes."

Mikael nodded and Ahmed hugged him again before shutting off the last light and going to bed.

Mikael laid down on the couch and checked his phone for the first time since he left Jonas's. He had eight missed calls, a voicemail and nine texts, the texts were comprised of "I'm sorry,” “Mikael please come back,” “I didn't mean to upset you,” “I'm really worried please call me," and the like. The voicemail was much the same, and his heart broke with the heartache that was present in Jonas's voice. He didn't want to fight with him. He loved Jonas, and no fight was going to change that.

"I'm not mad," he typed. "I'm at Ahmed and Samira's for the night. I told them."

"You did?" Jonas texted back almost immediately

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it tomorrow," he typed. "I love you."

"I love you too, more than you know."

"❤"

Mikael woke the next morning and helped Samira make comfort pancakes for them all. He left just before Ahmed went off to his first appointment and Samira left for her night shift. He had more messages from Jonas, but he ignored them. Not because he was mad, but because he just wasn't sure what to say yet.

Instead he walked home. It was several kilometers from Ahmed's to their family home, but the weather was fine, and Mikael needed the time to think. He didn't know what he was going to do exactly. He was torn between wanting to make Jonas happy, and wanting to keep their relationship for himself. He knew in his heart that if they were to keep moving forward, he would have to come out with it anyway. It was terrifying, the thought of things going poorly. But it needed to be done. Maybe if he did it quick, like a bandaid, it would hurt less. But maybe not.

He had to get out of the grey area he had been living in for the last six months. It was the prettiest grey area he had known, full of warmth, safety. It was the first grey area that really felt like home. And Mikael wanted to keep it that way.

He dragged himself home slowly, anxiety growing with every step.

He tried to close the door quietly, but it was old and creaky, and his mother was alerted as soon as the door latched shut.

"Mikael! Is that you?" her voice sounded from the kitchen.

"Hi," He said quietly, leaning against the doorframe between the kitchen and living room.

She turned around quickly, wooden spoon clutched in her hand.

“Where were you last night?" She demanded.

"I spent the night at Ahmed's." He said quietly, crossing his arms, protecting himself from the onslaught of questions.

"You didn't think to send us a text?" his father asked.

"I know," Mikael said. "I should have. I'm sorry. It was just late and I was tired. It slipped my mind."

"We were worried sick," his mother insisted.

"I'm sorry," Mikael said, the lump in his throat growing with every passing second.

"You look terrible," she continued. "Are you okay? Are you getting sick? What's wrong with you?"

Mikael took a shaky breath and tried to still his hands, "Can I talk to you guys?"

Concern crossed his mother's face as she moved to sit next to his father.

"What going on?" she asked.

"You haven't been fired have you?" his father asked.

"Have you gotten in trouble with the law?"

"No, nothing like that," Mikael shook his head. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, wringing his hands together.

"Well what could it possibly be?" his father asked. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Mikael wet his lips and took another shuddering breath.

"I met someone," he said, looking down at his hands.

"You met someone?" his father said.

"As in, you met a girl?" his mother said, wary hope tingeing her voice.

"Not exactly," he said, daring to look up at them. They stared back at him with warmth and confusion.

The silence dragged on between them as he willed them to understand so he didn't have to explain.

"I met a boy," he said finally.

"What do you mean you met a boy," his mother said.

"I mean I met a boy named Jonas and I've been in love with him for the past six months," he blurted out.

Shock colored both his parents faces, and the silence that followed was more agonizing that before. It was out there now. He was out there now. And he only had to wait for their reaction.

"Jonas?" his father asked. "Your friend Jonas?"

Mikael just nodded. The silence stretched on.

"Well," his mother said, standing up from the table and going back to the counter to work. "Okay then."

Her tone was curt, and she didn't turn back around to look at Mikael. He looked at his father, but he didn't look back.

"Do you...do you have anything to say about it?" he asked tentatively when the silence was nearly unbearable. He didn't want to ask, but he knew he needed to. His skin was crawling and he felt like a stranger in his own home.

"I don't know exactly what you want us to say," his mother said, turning back around and crossing her arms.

"I don't either," Mikael admitted, voice thick with emotion.

"Ahmed knows?" his father asked. Mikael nodded again.

"Well, okay then," he said, standing up from the table, mimicking his wife. He moved into the living room and didn't glance back. He looked again at his mother, who stared at him with confusion and sympathy. She made a noise and set her spoon down, coming over to put her hands against Mikael's face and kiss his forehead before turning back around and cooking.

Mikael stood there for several minutes, but she didn't move to make conversation, or even acknowledge that he was still there. Mikael took a deep shuddering breath and willed the tears not to fill his eyes just yet.

He turned around and went back out the front door, not bothering to be quiet about it.

He flew down the stairs, half blind, and out into the street. He was on the tram before he had half a mind to send a text.

"Are you home?" he asked.

"Where are you?" Jonas said immediately

"On the tram. I'll be there in ten."

He stumbled off the tram in a daze. He stopped most of the tears from falling before he even left, but the second he saw Jonas--halfway to his apartment--he collapsed into sobs.

He couldn't create coherent thoughts, let alone articulate what was going on. His voice was thick with saliva and tears and he clung to Jonas like he was his only lifeline.

"Shhh," Jonas whispered, holding the back of his head and rocking him, almost like a child. "It's okay. You're okay. I've got you."

When his tears slightly subsided, he took large gasping breaths. "I told them," he hiccuped. "I told them and they--they--"

His words were drowned out by another sob as he clung to Jonas even tighter.

"Hey," Jonas whispered directly in his ear, as Mikael's tears slowed to quieter, gentler gasps. "I'm here okay. I'm with you. Always. It's okay. You're okay."

Mikael nodded against Jonas's neck, and sniffled. He pulled back, eyes rimmed red, and he tried to smile. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess," he said.

Jonas laughed, and looked at Mikael with such wonder. He wiped a hand roughly against Mikael's cheeks, the other still clutching him tightly to his chest.

"It's okay," he said, with so much tenderness MIkael nearly burst into tears again. "You're my mess. And I'd rather have you like this than not at all."

Mikael gave him a weak smile, and Jonas kissed both of his cheeks, his aching eyes, his forehead, and his snotty, disgusting mouth.

"Come on," Jonas said after hugging him tightly. "You need cocoa, a fuzzy blanket, and a quiet movie."

Mikael couldn't do anything but nod and let himself be lead to Jonas's place. They went directly into his bedroom, and Mikael sat down weakly on the bed.

"Do you want to take a shower?" Jonas said. "Sometimes that helps me."

"That would be really nice actually," Mikael admitted, running his hand over his nose again.

Jonas smiled and led him to the bathroom. He gave him a towel and turned the shower on for him, making sure it was nice and hot. He ran a hand through Mikael's hair, and Mikael's eyelids fluttered at the contact. Jonas pressed their foreheads together before kissing his cheeks again. "I love you," he said. "I love you so much."

Mikael nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Jonas got him a change of clothes before he left, and then Mikael was alone with his thoughts.

It was a disaster, he knew. But it was done. There was no taking it back now. For better or for worse, his parents knew about Jonas. The truth about Jonas. He didn't have to hide it anymore, didn't have to pretend that Jonas was just his friend when in reality he was so much more. Maybe his parents would hate him for it. Maybe they would cast him out. Ahmed didn't seem to think so, but given their reaction today, Mikael wouldn't be surprised if they did. Maybe he was thinking in extremes because of the heat of the moment. But maybe he was being perfectly rational. He didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. He just wanted his mind to turn off. But he wasn't allowed that pleasure today.

He let the water run over him, trying to erase every bad thought he'd had for the past 24 hours. He tried to focus on the good. Tried to think about Jonas. Tried to remember Ahmed and Samira, their reactions last night. The kindness they showed him. The kindness he knew they would always show him. Mikael stood in the shower until the water ran cold and he started shivering. When he came back into Jonas's room, he was sitting on his bed, a large blanket over top of him, his laptop set up in front of him, and two steaming mugs on the windowsill.

Mikael crawled up next to him, curling under the blanket and into Jonas's lap. Jonas brushed his wet hair back from his face and pressed a warm kiss into his temple.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked. Mikael shrugged. He couldn't use his voice yet. "There's cocoa if you want some. I've got the Darjeeling Limited too, unless you want to watch something different?"

"'S'okay," Mikael said. Jonas's hand kept running over his hair and Mikael's eyes closed at the sensation. He fell asleep within ten minutes of the movie starting. He woke up halfway through and checked his phone.

"Where did you go?" His mother said.

"Everything okay?" Ahmed asked. "Mom called me she sounds worried."

"Mikael, darling, call me when you get this. I'm worried about you."

"I'm going to stay at Ahmed's again tonight," Mikael typed out.

"If you think that's what's best," she responded a few minutes later. "Love you."

"You too."

"If mom asks, I'm at yours tonight," he sent to Ahmed.

"Will you be with Jonas?" he responded.

"Yeah. I'll tell you more later. I just can't right now," he followed up.

"I understand. If you wanna stop by, the door is always open."

"Thank you Dr. Boukhal."

"Shut up, you know what I mean," his brother responded.

"I know. I'll talk to you later."

He put his phone down and looked up at Jonas who was watching him. "Okay?" Jonas asked.

"Not yet," he said. "But I will be."

Jonas nodded. "You wanna stay here tonight?"

"Can I?"

Jonas's face cracked into a smile. He bent down and gently kissed Mikael's lips, a little awkwardly because of the angle, but sweet nonetheless, "Of course you can."

They passed most of the rest of the day in silence. Mikael didn't eat much, and it worried Jonas, but Mikael was okay. Really, he was. He told Jonas the story in pieces, starting with the night before. But eventually, laying in the warmth of his bed, Jonas running a hand gently across his side, the whole story spilled out. The looks on his parents faces, the silence, the texts from his mother.

"Ahmed said they'd be understanding though," Jonas said. "They might just need time to process. It's a big change."

Mikael nodded. "I know that. And you're probably right. It just sucks right now."

"I know it does," Jonas said. He pulled him in for a tight hug and only let go enough for Mikael to comfortably lay against his chest. "I love you," he said. "And I'm really proud of you. Even if it doesn't feel good now, that was a huge step you took. You're really brave, Mik."

"I don't feel very brave," he said, face squished against Jonas's chest.

"I know. But you are. Trust me," he said.

"Okay," he said. "I trust you. And I love you."

Jonas kissed the top of his head, and they both drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, Jonas made him french toast with extra whipped cream, and talked about things that were completely irrelevant, but helped Mikael feel a bit of normalcy. Eventually he went left, and he made his way to Ahmed's.

"Are they mad at me?" he asked over coffee.

"Of course not," he said. "Mom's just worried."

Mikael scoffed and rolled his eyes. He knew it was true, but it didn't feel like it.

"You should talk to her," Ahmed said.

"She didn't seem to keen on talking to me yesterday," Mikael said.

"She knows that wasn't good of her," he said. "Just trust me."

So Mikael did. He made his way home and tried to be as quiet as possible coming in the front door. But, as always, it squeaked, and before it could latch, his mother was in the entryway. They stared at each other for a moment, before either of them moved. She wrapped him in a tight hug, and his arms automatically wrapped around her, simultaneously seeking comfort and offering solace. When she pulled back, he saw that worry was written all over her face.

Mikael felt a pang of guilt for being mad at her. He had every right to be, he knew that, but here stood his mother, the woman who loved him and raised him, along with his five siblings, to be a faithful man who saw good in all things. How could he possibly, even in a fit of anger, doubt that she would love him any less because she knew some other part of him. It might be sinful in some eyes, shameful maybe. But she was his mother and she, more than anyone, taught him not to judge others for things he didn't understand.

"I love you so much," she said, grabbing his face and kissing his forehead.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Don't you ever do that again," she said, playfully pinching him.

"Ow!" he said, recoiling.

She pulled him into a hug again. "I'm sorry for how we reacted. We were shocked, that's all. We don't think any differently of you."

"I know that now," he said into her shoulder.

"It will take some time for us to get used to the idea. So please be patient with us," she said. She pulled back, cupping his face again, beaming, "But my boy is in love."

Mikael blushed, "I am, yeah."

"You'll have to tell me all about him," she said.

"I will," he said, and she kissed his cheek one more time.

Together they moved into the house, settling in the living room. His mother next to his father, with whom he exchanged a small smile and a clasp of the hand, and Mikael on the loveseat with Samir. It was normal, but there was a tangible shift in the air. Maybe it wasn't noticeable to anyone but him, but it was there and it would take some getting used to.

Later that night, he was in the playroom with Samir when his sisters came in.

"Where'd you go the last couple of nights?" Zara asked.

"I, uh, was at Jonas's," he said quietly.

"Oh?" she cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he said looking at the other kids. "He's kind of...my boyfriend."

Zara smiled knowingly and the other kids looked up.

"Boyfriend?" Salma said. "Since when do you have a boyfriend?"

Mikael laughed. "He's new," he said, because that was easier to explain to a precocious nine year old than the truth was.

"What's his name?" Samir asked.

"Jonas," Mikael said.

Salma gasped and Faiza widened her eyes.

"Isn't that your friend's name?" Salma asked.

"Yes it is," Mikael confirmed.

"So how new is 'new'?" Faiza asked.

"That's a secret," Mikael teased. Her eyes narrowed, but she moved on. He and Zara exchanged a smiles, hers proud, his shy, and they passed the night in normal comfort, nothing changed at all between them.

Mikael called Jonas later that night and explained everything to him, his mother’s hug, his father's quiet acceptance, and his siblings eager excitement and simple understanding.

"I'm so fucking proud of you Mik," Jonas said. "Seriously. I'm so glad for you."

"Thanks," He said smiling. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

Jonas was silent for a while. "I'm sorry I kind of...spurred the action a bit. It was impulsive and rude and I shouldn't have done that."

"No," he said, "I'm glad you did. It sucked, definitely. Like, the fighting with you and then my parents. But, I'm glad I did it. I'm glad I don't have to keep you a secret anymore."

"As long as you're happy," he said.

"I am," Mikael assured him. "I'm so happy with you. Happier than I've ever been."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're the love of my whole damn life."

"Gross," Jonas teased. "I wish I could kiss fo you for that."

"Who's the gross one in this relationship?"

"Shut up," Jonas said.

"Alright, well I should go to sleep because I just remembered I actually have to work tomorrow."

"Okay I'll let you go."

"I love you, Jonas."

"I love you too, Mikael.

And they hung up, Mikael lying in his small bed, thinking of how much has changed in the past 48 hours. And despite the roller coaster of emotions he had gone through, despite never thinking he would feel this way, he did. And he was completely, endlessly, irrevocably happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got loads more to say about these two in this universe, so if you want to know more come [chat!](http://whenispeakicrossmyfingers.tumblr.com/)


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